


IV. Deliverance

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-22
Updated: 2007-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: The Winchesters return to Nomed Hollow to face the demon intent on destroying them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

DELIVERANCE

By Shorts

 

The miles slipped by, bringing them closer to the demon that still had the possibility of destroying them. Sam had researched the history of Nomed Hollow before they had set out. Overall, there hadn’t been much to find. The church he had burned down, believing it was the focal point the demon used to access their world, had been built in the late 1800’s. In the spring of 1907, during Sunday mass, the parish minister Clarence Deeker had stood before his congregation and opened fire, shooting and killing a number of people before he was taken down. The townspeople strung him up over the alter, a small town’s belief of quick justice.

 

There had never been an official explanation as to what caused the minister to succumb to a murderous rage. Rumors had abounded that he had discovered the infidelity of his wife, along with a variety of sinful secrets of his parishioners. Believing those who were guilty were beyond redemption, he had decided to take steps to prevent them from tainting any more of his congregation. It appeared the demon had wormed its way into this world via the minister and through the events following had taken over the quiet little town of Nomed Hollow.

 

The stars began to appear in the darkening sky as John drove, leading the way. He divided his attention between the road and the car lights following him. Despite his best attempts to keep his mind on the road, his thoughts kept drifting back to Dean’s forbidden touch. The hours of driving hadn’t diminished the memory of the pleasure he had experienced at Dean’s hand. All the while, his inner voice shouted at him that it was his _son_ he desired and yearned for, but god help him, his soul was torn. He had been shown that what he had considered taboo, no longer applied to them. Not when this life they had been thrust into existed in the shadows of a society they could never again be a part of.

 

Exhaling a deep breath, John rolled down his window, letting the cool air whip into the cab of the truck. The knowledge that his sons shared what he had denied himself caused him to struggle against simply stepping between them for his own selfish reasons. He knew Dean wanted this to work between the three of them, but in reality it couldn’t. Hell, it shouldn’t even exist as a temptation to ponder. Soon they would have to stop for the night, a prospect he had no idea how to deal with. 

 

They were getting close. Dean could sense it as they drove through the next small town. Hunching further down in the passenger seat, he stared at the red tail lights of John’s truck.

 

“You okay?” asked Sam, glancing over at Dean. Despite Dean’s constant assurance that he was fine, and the fact that Dean was healing, did not ease his concern.

 

“Will you stop asking me that?” snapped Dean, forcing himself to sit up straight.

 

“Just worried about you,” said Sam, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

 

“I’m fine,” said Dean, turning to look out the window at the dark, purple clouds hugging the horizon. It wasn’t that cold, but a shiver still raced down his back, causing him to hug himself tight.

 

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” ventured Sam, knowing it was useless, but hanging onto the hope that Dean would agree to stay back where it was somewhat safe.

 

Dean turned toward him. They had already spent too much time arguing the point of his going until there was nothing left to say.

 

Shifting in his seat, Sam pressed his lips tightly together and focused on the road ahead of them.

 

“You’re looking at this all wrong,” said Dean, his voice taking on a hollow tone. “There isn’t anything left for the demon to use against us. It deals in secrets . . . and ours is out in the open.”

 

“It could still kill you,” grumbled Sam, his knuckles whitening.

 

“Or you,” countered Dean. “Or Dad.”

 

Sam tensed at the mention of John.

 

“C’mon, Sam,” said Dean, his expression pained as he continued to look at Sam.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sam, swallowing the bitterness that threatened to drown him. “I just wonder . . .”

 

Dean braced himself for the conversation he had been expecting. “If he hadn’t left.”

 

“Yeah,” admitted Sam.

 

“But he had, Sam,” said Dean. “And nothing can change that, or what it is you and I have.”

 

“Really?” blurted Sam, sarcasm lacing his words. “It’s already changed, Dean. What we share . . . “

 

“We still have,” interrupted Dean.

 

“But it isn’t the same, not now,” said Sam. “I feel like I’m going to lose you, no matter how this turns out.”

 

Dean frowned. “You won’t.”

 

Sam half shrugged and shook his head. “That part of our lives was just us, you know?”

 

Dean could only sit there silently. Nothing he could say would make this any better.

 

“But now . . . that part of you isn’t just mine,” said Sam. “It never bothered me when you would hook up with some girl on the road, because she only had the physical side of you, not your heart.”

 

“Sam . . . .”

 

“I can’t compete with him, Dean,” said Sam, unable to look at his brother. 

 

“You don’t have to,” said Dean.

 

“You and I both know that what Dad says goes,” snapped Sam, his anger and hurt bubbling to the surface.

 

“Not in this,” said Dean, his words hard.

 

“Right,” drawled Sam. “Dean, I know Dad . . . and you. Have you ever really gone against him? Defied him when he laid down an order?”

 

Dean’s expression was hidden by the gloom as he paled.

 

“He and I have always been at odds and you did whatever you had to do to keep the peace,” continued Sam.

 

“That has nothing to do with us,” argued Dean.

 

“It has everything to do with us!” Sam practically shouted. “I can’t help wondering if I was second choice, only because he wasn’t there for you.”

 

“That’s low,” said Dean, his voice deep and cold. “Do you think that you’re just a substitute for him? Is that it? What the hell does that say about me? Huh? Do you really think I’m that much of a bastard to toss away what we have?” 

 

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam snapped back. “I’m sort of in the dark here. You seem to have trouble if I even move too close to you, but you didn’t seem to have any trouble jacking Dad off this morning. So where does that leave me?”

 

“The one person I can count on,” answered Dean, taken back by Sam’s outburst. “At least I have our relationship to draw upon to help separate the truth from the illusion the demon used. I don’t have that with Dad, and without it I’m not sure I can get past this.” The admission was hard to make and he was thankful for the darkness surrounding them.

 

“Shit, Dean,” said Sam and rubbed his face with his hand. Dean had enough to deal with without him laying a guilt trip on him. As much as he hated what Dean had said, he couldn’t deny the truth that rang in them.

 

Swallowing and moving before he thought too much, Dean leaned across the seat and cupped Sam’s chin and kissed him.

 

Sam swerved as soft lips sealed over his, stealing his breath.

 

The rock of the car caused Dean to pull back and brace himself with a hand on the dashboard. “Whoa there, or you’ll kill us before the demon has a chance.”

 

The flare of brake lights startled them as John’s truck pulled over to the shoulder. “Great,” muttered Sam.

 

John was out of the truck and heading back toward them before Sam had the Impala stopped. For Sam to lose control of the car like that, he was certain something had to have happened with Dean. He strode toward the passenger side of the car and yanked it open. “What’s wrong?”

 

Dean looked up at his father. “Just a cramp from riding in the car this long. Guess I scared the hell out Sam.”

 

“We’ll stop at the next motel we see,” said John, relieved that it hadn’t been another attack by the demon. He paused before turning back to his truck, caught by the shine of Dean’s eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

“Yeah,” said Dean, giving his best reassuring smile.

 

Nodding, John turned away and hurried back to his truck.

 

“A cramp?” repeated Sam.

 

“It was the only thing I could think of to say,” said Dean.

 

“You could have told him I lost control because you fucking kissed me,” said Sam. “It’s not like we have to hide anymore.” Besides, it would have been nice to have John know that he still had his place with Dean.

 

“Oh, sure,” said Dean. “Like that wouldn’t lead to a new lecture on the dangers of fooling around while driving.”

 

“You’re right,” said Sam after a moment and put the car into gear.

 

They had agreed they would stop far enough away that the demon couldn’t physically interact with them, but close enough they would reach Nomed Hollow early the next day.

 

John followed his sons into the motel room and headed for the bathroom to check it out. Satisfied nothing was lurking to jump out at them he headed for his duffel bag and withdrew a container of salt. He methodically encircled the room, creating a protective barrier.

 

Stretching out on the bed, Dean willed the kinks in his bruised muscles to loosen after hours cooped up in the car. At least he didn’t have to haul in their stuff from the car as Sam dropped their bags by the small table under the window.

 

“I’m going to see what I can pick up for dinner around here,” said John. “Sam, keep an eye on Dean. We’re only guessing the demon can’t touch him here, but I’m not willing to take any chances.”

 

Sam nodded as he sat rummaging through their bags for clean t-shirts and shorts.

 

“You need to be careful, too,” said Dean, sitting up. Despite the urge to declare he was quite capable of taking care of himself, he shoved the feeling down deep. It wouldn’t do to disrupt the peace right now, even if it did cause his brother and father to side together against him.

 

“I will,” said John, looking over his shoulder before stepping outside.

 

“Why don’t you take first shower?” suggested Sam, carrying what they needed into the bathroom.

 

Dean watched him, contemplating what Sam had said in the car. With his heart beating double time, he moved toward the bathroom, blocking the doorway.

 

“Dean?” Sam had turned from the tub having placed the soap and shampoo along the edge.

 

Licking his lips, Dean hesitated.

 

“Something wrong?” asked Sam, moving toward him. When he tried to bypass him to check out the room, Dean stopped him.

 

“Everything’s fine,” said Dean, suddenly unable to look directly at Sam.

 

“Then what is it? Are you hurting?” asked Sam. “Let me check and see if you’ve reopened anything.” He moved to retrieve the first aid kit he had left on the bedside table next to the bed.

 

“I didn’t reopen anything, Sam,” said Dean, grabbing Sam by the wrist to stop him. It would take more than a car ride to reopen any of the wounds he had sustained almost a week ago.

 

Sam turned, looking questioning at Dean.

 

“I just thought . . . ,” started Dean and swallowed against a throat suddenly dry.

 

“What?”

 

“If we showered together Dad could get a turn as soon as he got back,” choked out Dean, determined to squash the trepidation that washed over him.

 

“Dean, if this is about what I said earlier . . . ,” said Sam, noting Dean’s unease.

 

“It is,” said Dean. “And you were right. You’re the one I should have turned to first.”

 

“Dean . . . .”

 

“C’mon, don’t make me beg here, okay?” It wouldn’t take much for him to back down and shy away from Sam.

 

“You sure?” Sam wanted to be certain that Dean was alright with what he was suggesting.

 

“As much as I can be right now,” answered Dean.

 

Nodding, Sam stepped back and keeping eye contact with Dean removed his shirt and underlying t-shirt. He waited until Dean started to undress before stripping the rest of the way.

 

The hot water cascaded down Dean’s back as he faced Sam. The terror of what had been done to him was just below the surface as he struggled to convince himself that this was truly Sam.

 

Sam stood perfectly still, seeing the look in Dean’s eyes. This felt like the first time they had ventured into this aspect of their relationship. Except it had been him scared shitless and Dean giving him the lead.

 

“You’d think this wouldn’t be this hard,” said Dean with a half hearted laugh, trying to lighten the tension he felt.

 

“We don’t have to do anything,” assured Sam.

 

“Not sure how much I’d be up to anyhow,” admitted Dean, forcing himself to reach out and place a hand on Sam’s chest. Splaying his fingers he caressed the solid muscles from smooth chest down to his stomach.

 

Sam inhaled sharply as his muscles twitched beneath Dean’s touch. Within moments he was hard and he leaned toward Dean.

 

Taking a small step, Dean encircled Sam’s waist to steady him as he palmed Sam’s erection, fisting him.

 

Uncertain about embracing him in return, Sam braced his hands against the tile behind Dean. As he succumbed to the firm hold on him, he dropped his head further until his forehead rested on Dean’s shoulder.

 

Rubbing his cheek next to Sam’s, Dean tightened his hold around his brother’s waist and increased the pressure and speed of his hand. The small gasps against his wet skin and the trembling he felt as he held Sam encouraged him to nuzzle the crook of his neck.

 

“God, Dean,” gasped Sam. He turned his head, seeking Dean’s mouth while instinctively moving his arms to hug Dean.

 

Feeling arms tighten around him, Dean almost pushed Sam away, but instead concentrated on Sam’s mouth covering his. Lips parted and Sam’s questing tongue darted against his, sliding with tentative ease inside.

 

Too soon the telltale tightening of his gut had Sam clinging hard to Dean as his orgasm built, threatening to shatter him as it crashed over and through him.

 

Holding on until Sam recovered, Dean felt Sam’s hand venture down his hip to his partially hard erection. He pulled back while pushing Sam away.

 

“Dean?” Sam was surprised by the sudden reaction.

 

Dean couldn’t find the words to explain.

 

“It’s okay,” soothed Sam. “I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“I want this, I do,” said Dean, taking Sam’s hand in his own and guiding it back to his hip. For this to work, it had to go both ways.

 

Sam opened his mouth to ask Dean if he was sure, but instead closed the small distance between them.

 

Dean stiffened as Sam’s fingers played over his faltered erection, coaxing him toward full hardness. Long fingers gripped him gently and started to stroke up and down.

 

Maintaining eye contact, Sam strove to bring Dean off. He watched the play of emotions cross Dean’s face as he ran his thumb over the spongy crown of before turning his wrist and sliding his fingertips downward until he cupped the heavy sacs that tightened under his fondling.

 

“Sam . . . ,” whispered Dean, tilting his head back as he surrendered to Sam’s gentle hands.

 

“I got you,” breathed Sam, shifting his hand to concentrate on the weeping shaft that twitched in his palm.

 

Dean’s eyes squeezed tight as he came, his entire body shaking. A weight had lifted off him as he stood leaning against Sam. His legs felt weak from the physical and emotional release.

 

“C’mon,” said Sam, reaching for the soap. “We better not stay in here much longer, or it could get awkward.”

 

John pulled into the motel parking lot and sat there, gazing blankly at nothing before opening the truck door. He hesitated, unsure what he would be walking into when he opened the motel door. Shaking his head, he dispelled the surge of jealousy that his thoughts had conjured. Stepping inside, he saw Dean lying on the bed on his stomach while Sam checked almost healed bites and scratches. 

 

Sam worked methodically. The wounds looked a helluva lot better than they had, but it still caused his stomach to clench in sympathy for the manner in which they had been delivered. Even the bruising was starting to discolor and fade a bit, although the muscles beneath them were still tender. He looked up as John came in and placed the take out containers on the table.

 

“Diner burgers and fries,” said John, placing the take out containers on the table and shrugging out of his jacket.

 

“Sounds good to me,” said Dean, his stomach grumbling from the smell. He sat up as Sam finished and took the offered container from John.

 

Sam moved to sit at the table, pulling out the rest of the food for him and John. “I figure we’re about two hours from Nomed Hollow.”

 

“There isn’t any sure way to tell how far its reach can extend,” said John. “But I’m sure it knows we’re coming and its getting ready.”

 

Dean stopped in mid chew, his appetite vanishing.

 

Looking over at Dean, John sensed the sudden tension. “It might be better if the two of you stay here.” He held up a hand to forestall the argument that started from his sons. “I’d wager the demon is tuned in to Dean and is tracking us through him. And if that is the case, I can get in with some edge of surprise.”

 

“Let me go,” said Sam. “I should have taken care of it the first time.”

 

“Getting Dean out of there was the right thing to do,” said John. “But now I need you to keep Dean safe.”

 

“Don’t I have any say in this?” asked Dean, pushing the remains of his burger away. “If the demon is focusing on me, then it will give the two of you the opportunity to find where Clarence Deeker is buried and burn him. You can bet the moment that grave is disturbed the demon will be all over you, unless it has something better distracting it.”

 

“We are not using you as bait, Dean,” said John, his mouth stern.

 

“Might not have a choice,” mumbled Dean under his breath.

 

“This is nuts!” said Sam. “You can’t honestly say you don’t have a problem setting yourself up to go through that again.”

 

“I do, but it’s my problem,” said Dean. “I survived it once, I can again.”

 

“Only because it let you,” said Sam.

 

“Look, we can’t be arguing amongst ourselves,” said John, tossing the fry he held in his hand and closing the lid. “I’m taking a shower and I suggest we get some sleep.” He stood and gathered clean shorts and t-shirt before heading to the bathroom.

 

Sam looked over at Dean, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

 

“Join the club,” said Dean, placing the remains of his uneaten dinner in the trash basket before lying down.

 

After cleaning up the remains of dinner, Sam checked the door and window to be sure they were locked and that the salt line hadn’t been disturbed. He turned in time to see Dean yawn and curl onto his side.

 

“Not sure I’m going to be able to sleep,” said Dean, punching his pillow beneath his head.

 

Sam snorted at the drawn, tired look on Dean’s face. “Give it a shot, you might surprise yourself.” He moved toward the bed and paused, looking down at Dean.

 

“There’s room enough,” said Dean, inviting Sam to stretch out beside him. They settled together with Dean curled against Sam’s side as the sound of the shower filled the silence.

 

John stood beneath the water, reluctant to leave the refuge of the bathroom. Eventually he emerged and he took in the sight of his sons lying together. Dean was asleep, but Sam was looking straight at him.

 

“Glad to see he had no trouble going to sleep,” said John, running a hand through his damp hair.

 

“I talked him into taking a pain pill after showering,” said Sam.

 

John automatically moved to the door and window, double checking they were locked and inspected the salt line.

 

Sam watched him go through the ritual routine and waited until John had turned back, bracing himself for what he needed to say. “I don’t want Dean caught in the middle like he usually is between us.”

 

“He won’t be,” said John.

 

“I won’t give him up,” stated Sam, trying to keep his voice low and not wake Dean.

 

“Didn’t expect you to,” said John, keeping his voice completely neutral.

 

“Then what do we do?” asked Sam.

 

“Whatever we have to,” answered John, settling on the other bed and adjusting the pillows to lean back against the headboard. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp and opened the laptop, intending to try and find any more information to help with the fight he faced.

 

Sam lifted his head and looked over Dean to the space on the other side. “Should Dean wake up, he might feel better having you close.” The suggestion had been hard to offer, but he knew compromise would be the only answer for their situation.

 

“I think waking up and finding himself pinned between us when he didn’t go to sleep that way would be worse,” said John. “It’ll work itself out, Sam. He’s safe with you . . . just don’t let go.”

 

Turning his head Sam gazed down at Dean as his shoulder was used for his pillow. “After what happened last time, I’m not sure that’s enough.”

 

“That was in Nomed Hollow,” said John, as the glow from the laptop shined on him as the only source of light in the room. “I don’t think the demon is going to be snatching anyone from this room. Not tonight. Now try and get some sleep, I’m going to stay up a bit.”

 

Shifting slightly, Sam settled closer to Dean and closed his eyes. It would be hard, but he would rather share Dean than lose him completely. He only hoped that their father would see it that way as well, and not as an ultimatum.

 

John searched for any other possible explanation for the demon’s passage into their world, but Sam had done a thorough job. There was nothing else to find on the church, Clarence Deeker, or the town Nomed Hollow. The soft sounds of his sons deep, steady breathing drifted to him and he closed down the laptop. Clenching his jaw, he set about building his resolve to banish that part of himself that had no place in their lives.

 

The hours slipped by and John dozed, never quite dropping off into a deep sleep. It wasn’t the fear that Dean would suddenly be taken, he was pretty sure they were out of reach, but the sense of responsibility as a father to protect his sons. _Both_ his sons.

 

Quietly John opened the door, sparing a glance at his sons before slipping outside. It had been insane bringing Dean along. He was already vulnerable physically and mentally from his encounter with the demon and to place him jeopardy again was careless and inexcusable. He had meant it when he had said he would have a better chance going alone, and by hell, he intended to keep Dean safe while he dealt with this.

 

Sam bolted upright out of sleep, his heart pounding in his chest as he blinked to regain his bearings. It had seemed so real, that at first he wasn’t sure it hadn’t been.

 

“Sam?” Dean sat up, woken by Sam’s abrupt movement.

 

“I’m fine,” said Sam. He could still hear the venomous words that had come from his father. “Just a . . . “

 

“Bad dream?” finished Dean.

 

“Yeah,” answered Sam. He closed his eyes and for a moment relieved the nightmare. John had taken Dean away from him and confirmed that when all was said and done, he never really had what it took to be a part of the world they shared. After all, he had taken off for Stanton, effectively turning his back on that life . . . and Dean.

 

“Think it was the demon?” asked Dean, fighting to keep the fear out of his voice.

 

“Don’t know,” said Sam, rubbing his face in an attempt to banish the lingering remains of the dream. He glanced over to the other bed and found it empty. “Shit.”

 

Dean looked around Sam and quickly turned to face the bathroom, but it remained dark.

 

Sam moved toward the window and pulled back the curtains, immediately noticing John’s truck was gone. “The son of a bitch . . .”

 

“It’s about an hour before sunrise,” said Dean, checking the clock. “There’s no way to tell how long ago he left.”

 

Sam clenched the curtains in his hand, torn whether to chase after John, or to keep Dean here where there was some semblance of safety.

 

“The longer we dick around, the further ahead he’s going to get,” said Dean, pulling on his jeans and grabbing a shirt.

 

“Dean . . . . ,” started Sam.

 

“Don’t _even_ go there,” hissed Dean, shoving his socked feet into his boots.

 

“But . . . ,”

 

“He wouldn’t have stayed behind if you had pulled the same stupid stunt,” said Dean, standing to tuck his t-shirt into his jeans before zipping them up.

 

Sam knew it was true, and praying he wasn’t making a horrible mistake where Dean was concerned, rushed around dressing.

 

The sky was lightening as dawn started to peek over the horizon as John passed a sign announcing he would be reaching Nomed Hollow shortly. He figured Dean and Sam would be discovering his absence soon enough. There was a chance that Sam would have the common sense to keep Dean there, but there was no certainty in that.

 

They had been on the road for over an hour, and with Sam driving with no respect for posted speed limits, they hoped they had closed the distance between them and John.

 

“We’re not going to catch him before he gets there,” said Sam, his foot heavy on the accelerator.

 

“No, but he’s got to find the church on unmarked back roads,” said Dean. “If the demon does have a way of interacting with the townspeople, he can’t stop and ask for directions. We have the advantage of knowing exactly where to go.”

 

Sam glanced up at the lightening sky and hoped Dean was right. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help wondering if the demon had sent him that nightmare for the sole purpose to wake him. If it was, John may not have that much of a head start on them. It would also mean the demon wanted them together, or specifically, Dean.

 

The sun had just started to rise when John crossed the town line painted across the asphalt. Even knowing the hold the demon must have on the town, it still appeared as any other small town to John. There was no feeling of an ominous presence as he slowly drove through Nomed Hollow as it woke to a new day.

 

In the distance he heard a train whistle, a haunting siren that called to him as he started the ordeal of finding the remains of the church Sam had burned down. A task that proved to be more difficult than he had imagined.

 

John cautiously drove toward the ruined remains of the burned church after a number of wrong turns. Bringing the truck to a stop, he scanned the area before getting out. In the back where the church had stood was a patch of land. It was partially fenced in by a short wrought iron fence that had seen better days. Withdrawing the tools he would need, he passed through the opening where a gate had once stood.

 

The sense of déjà vu struck Dean as they rolled into town. He watched the people walking along the sidewalk in front of the storefronts and even though no one looked directly at them, he had the feeling of being watched. The same feeling he had when they had come here before. “It knows we’re here.”

 

“How do you know that?” asked Sam, searching for some sign from the town itself.

 

“I can feel it,” answered Dean, pressing back against his seat as they continued through the town.

 

Sam slammed on the brakes as a kid on a skateboard darted out in front of the car. Despite barely escaping a collision, the kid merely stared at them with a faint smile as he continued on by. “I’d say it definitely knows we’re here,” said Sam, slowly getting the car moving again.

 

“No, shit,” breathed Dean, as tense as a cat on a hot tin roof. 

 

The rest of the drive through town was tense and nerve wracking, waiting for some obstacle to block their path until they finally hit the dirt roads leading to the church.

 

Walking up and down the crumbled headstones, the wild grass was thick and tall, making it difficult to search for the one he wanted. Yanking away the hardy grass, John searched for the marker of Clarence Deeker. Not finding it, he headed for the far end of the old graveyard. It would make sense they would have buried him as far from the church as possible, and renewed his search among the cluster of trees.

 

The wind had started to pick up when he circled a copse of trees and finally stood before the barely legible headstone of one Clarence Deeker. He set down the gas can and salt and using the shovel started to dig. Intent on finishing the job, he didn’t notice the wind picking up and the clouds rolling in.

 

“ _You left him with Sam._ ”

 

John frowned as he threw another shovel of dirt to the side.

 

“ _Sam had been the one to suggest coming alone. Planting the idea so you would be here and out of the way. He will do whatever it takes to keep Dean for himself._ ”

 

Tightening his grip on the shovel, he roughly struck the hardened dirt as unbidden images of Sam with Dean flashed before him.

 

“ _Sam will eventually come, but not until it’s too late. And without any concern for Dean’s safety, he’ll drag him right here with him._ ”

 

“No,” choked John, blinking hard against the taunting images that refused to fade from his mind’s eye. The knowledge it was the demon trying to stop him did not help ease the turmoil of picturing Sam taking what he himself had longed for.

 

“ _Yesss. He belongs to Sam. You will never know the pleasure Dean offers so sweetly to his own brother in your place. He’s eager to please and so willing to do whatever is desired of him. Deep down you’ll never know if Dean is with you because he has been trained to do your bidding. After all, he would do anything to earn your approval, why not your love?_ ”

 

The moment the shovel clanged against wood, John was thrown up and back twenty feet into the tall grass, knocking the breath from him. The wind howled while thunderclouds unleashed a torrent of rain and lightening. Struggling to gain his feet, John was once again struck across the chest by smoky tendrils that wrapped themselves around him. 

 

“ _Dad?_ ”

 

John squinted through the pain and lifted his head to see Dean walking toward him.

 

“Dean? You’re not supposed to be here.”

 

“ _You left me again._ ”

 

“No.”

 

“ _Am I that hard to love? Don’t you want me?_ ”

 

John struggled against the bonds holding him as Dean knelt beside him.

 

“ _I want to be yours._ ”

 

“You’re not Dean,” snarled John, trying to move away from the questing hand reaching for him. Straining against the bruising bonds that held him, he reached for his gun, but jerked as cool fingers touched his skin, insinuating themselves beneath his clothes and teasing him with promises of sinful pleasure. In the distance the faint intrusion of a car engine momentarily shook the illusion that surrounded him. He tried to push Dean away, but once again succumbed to the talented mouth that engulfed his erection.

 

“ _You’ve dreamed of having my mouth on you._ ”

 

“Dean,” groaned John. He resisted the urge to card his fingers through soft, short hair, fighting not to succumb to the too real illusion. 

 

“ _I could have been with you. Know what you had given up and that which Sam took from you._ ”

 

John arched, but was denied release as tantalizing lips slipped off of him. “No.” The overwhelming darkness of loss bypassed the mere physical abandonment.

 

“ _I belong to Sam. I always will. Unless you do something about it, you’ll never have me. Not the way you want._ ”

 

“Don’t . . . “, struggled John beneath the phantom caresses bordering on torture.

 

“Hurry, Sam,” said Dean as they raced over the dirt road. The sky had suddenly turned nasty and visibility had dropped drastically as torrential rains beat down.

 

Fighting with the steering wheel, Sam took a left turn without slowing. The Impala skidded before straightening out on its new direction.

 

“ _You’ve come back to us. We had so much fun playing with you, this time will be even better._ ”

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the taunting voice.

 

The groan from Dean had the hairs on Sam’s neck standing on end. “Dean?!”

 

“Just drive,” said Dean through gritted teeth.

 

Sam slammed on the brakes and shifted the Impala into reverse. He had almost missed the turn off that led to the church. Ahead he could see John’s truck through the downpour and parked beside it.

 

“ _You’re too late._ ”

 

Dean fumbled for the door handle and stumbled out.

 

Hurrying around the car, Sam steadied Dean as they headed for the graveyard.

 

“I don’t see him,” said Dean, squinting against the rain. A cold sweat broke over him. The sensation of being watched threatened to smother him.

 

“The trees,” said Sam, pointing. “The grave has got to be there.” He took off running with Dean behind him.

 

“ _Come to us._ ”

 

Dean stumbled as they reached the trees. He scrambled across the ground until he was pressed against the bark of a tree.

 

“Dad!” called Sam, darting through the copse of trees. He spotted the exposed grave and headed for it, unaware John was a stone’s throw away. Turning, he discovered Dean wasn’t with him and shouted for him. The fear he had failed Dean in protecting him almost consumed him. Fighting back panic, he grabbed the shovel lying on the ground and attacked the wooden casket, breaking the top to expose the skeletal remains inside.

 

“ _He wants Dean and what John wants, he always gets. Doesn’t he? You’re going to lose him to your own father and there is nothing you can do._ ” 

 

“Shut up,” hissed Sam, shoving the splintered lid off and pouring salt into the casket.

 

“ _Dean has already submitted to him. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. John wants you out of the way and will do anything to get what he wants._ ”

 

Sam clenched his teeth, his hand shaking as the salt poured out and mixed with the mud and rain.

 

“ _They’re together right now. Why else are you all alone?_ ”

 

“I’m going to send your ass back to hell,” growled Sam, scattering the remainder of the salt and tossing the empty container into the grave before reaching for the can of gasoline.

 

“ _You’ve always known it. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself. You’re the expendable one. John would sacrifice you in a heartbeat for Dean. And Dean? Well . . . who do you think he would choose?_ ”

 

Sam almost dropped the gas can as he fought against the emotional attack. The demon’s words struck deep into his insecurities, but that did not make what it said true. With every ounce of will he held on to that belief, refusing to allow it the hold it desperately needed on him.

 

John gasped as the demon’s hold vanished and Dean’s image faded in a swirl of smoke.

 

“ _Sam needs to be dealt with. **Now.** Or you will lose Dean forever!”_ The urgency in the hissed voice was not lost on John.

 

Abruptly Dean found himself once again at the mercy of the demon. Cold tendrils danced over him, caressing him with a roughness that promised pain as his shirt was torn from him in shreds.

 

“ _You were foolish to come back here. Soon you will beg to die and they will blame your death on each other._ ”

 

“No!” screamed Dean, struggling against the unrelenting tendrils encircling and sliding over his exposed skin. He arched away from the merciless touch slipping beneath his jeans.

 

“ _Even now they are fighting over you, each claiming you as their own._ ”

 

Dean choked back a groan as burning cold taunted him. The touch refrained from penetration, but was a cruel reminder of the violation he had suffered.

 

The sudden release confused John and he rolled to his feet, straightening his clothes as he stood bent over. Through the heavy rain he saw Sam standing over the grave of Clarence Deeker. Quickly scanning the area for Dean, it occurred to him that despite the power the demon wielded, it could not deal with all three of them at the same time.

 

“ _You might save one, but you can’t save both._ ” At that moment, thunder cracked almost drowning Dean’s cry of agony. 

 

“You bastard,” growled John, as he started to run.

 

Sam turned from dousing the grave with gasoline when thunder almost masked Dean’s cry and he saw John running toward him.

 

The demon gathered itself into a black mass near Sam, intent on destroying the very essence that directly threatened it.

 

“Sam! Look out!” shouted John, ignoring the ache encircling his bruised body as raced to reach Sam in time.

 

Sam turned and took a step backward as he stared at the swirling, thickening smoke.

 

John rushed in front of him, shielding him from the solid blackness as he took aim and fired. The rock salt dispersed part of the attacking form, but not enough to escape the bone jarring hit spurred on by rage and hate.

 

Sam stumbled as John was knocked backward into him and they both tumbled to the ground. “Dad . . . .”

 

“Finish it,” gasped John, trying to untangle himself from Sam in his desperation to find Dean.

 

“Dad . . . ,” repeated Sam.

 

“Now, Sam!” ordered John, scrambling to his feet as another soul wrenching scream from Dean ripped through the air.

 

With his heart in his throat, Sam reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and grabbed the matches. Shielding them with his body, he set the entire book of matches on fire before tossing it into the grave. Flames burst upward, radiating intense heat as a howl whipped around him.

 

“ _You can’t destroy **me**!_ ”

 

Dean threw his head back as the nightmare returned with a vengeance of slashing pain, forcing a throat searing scream from him. Through pain hazed eyes he saw the figure of his father and struggled to escape.

 

Ignoring the pain that radiated from his ribs, John moved quickly through the mud and grass when he spotted Dean suspended above the ground among the trees. Black tendrils whipped around Dean, ruthlessly leaving marks in their path. As the purifying fire burned, the tendrils of smoke started to lose their solidity. John hurried, intent on catching Dean before he fell.

 

Sam backed away from the grave, assured that the rain would not put the fire out before it finished the job. He saw John disappear into the trees and started after him, hoping like hell the fire hadn’t been too late.

 

Dean felt the demon release him, only to be caught by his father and eased down to lie on the ground. “No!” He struck out, landing a solid blow.

 

“Dean! It’s me,” said John, trying to block Dean’s swings and hug him tight.

 

“Dad?” Dean tensed, blinking against the rain blurring his vision.

 

“I’ve got you,” soothed John.

 

“Is it gone?” asked Dean, huddled against John.

 

“Yeah, Sam sent it back to hell,” said John, looking back at the bright blaze.

 

Dean nodded and held on tight, wishing to bury himself in his father’s protective embrace as the rain started to lessen.

 

Sam dropped to his knees beside them, thankful that Dean hadn’t been killed. Shrugging out of his jacket, he wrapped it around Dean’s shoulders. “Shit, Dean. How bad is it?”

 

“Not like last time,” whispered Dean. “But it hurts like a mother.”

 

“Let’s get out of here,” said John, rising to his feet and with Sam’s help got Dean up as well.

 

Sam supported Dean back to the car, as John wrapped a protective arm around his own bruised ribs.

 

Dressed in dry sweatpants and John’s jacket, Dean insisted they drive until they were back at the hotel, arguing that seeing to his injuries could wait. Sam led the way as John followed in his truck. Gone was the feeling of being watched as they drove back through Nomed Hollow, but it wasn’t until the town was well behind them that Dean started to relax.

 

The sun was low in the sky when they finally pulled into the parking lot of the motel. Sam ushered Dean inside and directly to the bathroom. He had refrained from asking too many questions on the drive back and was anxious to check just what damage the demon had inflicted on Dean.

 

John leaned against the door jamb and watched as Sam opened the first aid kit. A fresh set of bruises overlaid those that had started to fade along with multiple cuts covering Dean’s chest and back. He had some time to think on the way back, and had come to a decision.

 

“The cuts aren’t as deep as before, but bad enough,” said Sam cleaning each wound.

 

“It couldn’t deal with all three of us,” said John.

 

“But it still chose me to get off on,” hissed Dean as Sam tended to a rather deep cut on his lower back.

 

Sam averted his gaze to snag the gauze from the kit when he finally asked the question that needed to be asked. “Did, uh, did it _hurt_ you like it did before?”

 

Dean ducked his head, his cheeks burning from the memory. “No. It didn’t get a chance.”

 

Sam let out a sigh of relief. Satisfied, he helped him toward the bed.

 

John closed the bathroom door and took off his shirt to get a look at the damage to his chest. A smattering of cuts complimented a dark, purple bruise that spread from his sternum and down his ribs on the left. He turned when the bathroom door opened and Sam stepped inside.

 

“Your turn,” said Sam, holding tape and scissors in one hand and antiseptic in the other.

 

“It’s nothing,” said John reaching for his shirt.

 

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” said Sam, taking John’s shirt from him. “Now, are you going to let see to those, or do I have to do this the hard way?”

 

“You better give up, Dad,” called Dean from the other room. “I’ve been on the receiving end when Sam sets his mind to something.”

 

Sam smirked and wiggled the antiseptic and waited.

 

“Fine,” said John, reluctantly. He grimaced as Sam checked his ribs and endured the stinging antiseptic as minor cuts and scraps were cleaned.

 

“You’re lucky it didn’t break any ribs,” said Sam, stepping back.

 

“Not from lack of trying,” said John, placing a protective hand over his chest as he moved toward the bathroom door.

 

“Uh, thanks for what you did,” said Sam, looking at John.

 

“You’re my son,” said John, resting a hand on Sam’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as he passed by him. “It meant to kill you, Sam. I don’t know what I would do if I lost either of you.”

 

Sam could feel the sting of threatening tears and turned away, busying himself with putting the first aid kit back together.

 

John started to gather his belongings in some semblance of order. “I have to go.”

 

Dean looked sharply at him as Sam stopped in the bathroom doorway.

 

“Why?” asked Dean.

 

“Because I need to,” answered John.

 

“No you don’t,” said Sam, sharing a look with Dean.

 

“Yeah, I do,” said John, turning to face his sons. “This life is hard enough without complicating it.”

 

“Don’t,” said Dean, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

 

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” said Sam. The prospect of sharing his relationship with Dean with their father didn’t hold the same bite as it had.

 

“It will be if I stay,” said John, a sad smile on his face. “I’ve found a peace inside that I haven’t felt in a long time. Not since . . . .”

 

“Since you left,” finished Dean, walking slowly toward John.

 

John nodded and dropped his gaze. “It isn’t right, but now . . . it doesn’t feel as wrong.”

 

“Who is to judge what is right or wrong?” asked Sam.

 

“We live by our own rules,” said Dean. “Kill the evil sons of bitches and grab what happiness you can, while you can.” He stood before John, willing him to hear him and what he was saying.

 

“It’s not quite that simple, Dean,” said John.

 

“Actually, it is,” said Sam, side stepping them and grabbing his jacket and the keys to the Impala.

 

“Where are you going?” asked Dean, frowning

 

“I’ll be back,” assured Sam. “I just need to figure out some changes that need to happen.”

 

“Sam . . . ,” started John, reaching out and blocking the door with his hand.

 

“It’s okay,” said Sam, easing John’s hand away and opening the door. “Really. Dean needs you just as much as you need him.”

 

“Where are you going?” asked Dean, unsettled by the thought of Sam being the one to disappear from his life this time.

 

“Like I said, I need to think. And it wouldn’t hurt to find us something to eat,” answered Sam. “Besides, you have a better chance of convincing him not to leave without me here.” He shared a meaningful look with Dean before he slipped out the door.

 

“I will never figure him out,” said John, staring at the closed door.

 

 

“I’m sure he feels the same way about you,” said Dean, stepping away and easing back down to sit on the edge of the bed.

 

Sighing, John turned to face his son. The tug to go to him was strong. Swallowing he pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

 

“You don’t have to go,” said Dean.

 

“Yes. I do,” said John, dropping his gaze.

 

“Why?” asked Dean.

 

“Because it wouldn’t be right for me to stay,” answered John.

 

“In what way? It isn’t right to have the kind of relationship with me that I have with Sam?” asked Dean, trying to keep his voice level.

 

“That’s not the only reason,” admitted John. “But it is a major one.”

 

“It’s right if we say it is,” said Dean. “Since when do we care what anyone else thinks?”

 

“This isn’t about other people, Dean,” said John, looking at him. “This is about us. The three of us.”

 

“I know,” said Dean, holding John’s gaze.

 

“It . . . works for you and Sam,” said John. “It can’t for us.”

 

“I don’t see a difference,” said Dean.

 

“You wouldn’t,” said John softly. “Trust me, this isn’t a good idea.”

 

“If you had stayed this wouldn’t be an issue now,” said Dean.

 

“That’s exactly why I left,” said John. He leaned back in the chair and let out a long breath. “I would have gone against my better judgment and I couldn’t live with that. There is no way I could ever be sure that you’re not just submitting to this out of some misplaced sense of loyalty. Or because it’s something that is expected of you by me.”

 

Dean looked at John, truly looked at him with clear eyes without just seeing the man that was his father. The man before him was still a man he respected above anyone else. The love he had for him as father would always be there, but the love for the man was stronger. “You’re not just my dad, you’re more than that.”

 

“I can’t be more than what I am,” said John. If he had any doubts on how Dean perceived him, they vanished. 

 

“To me you are,” said Dean, slowly standing.

 

John shook his head and leaned forward, feeling the weight of the world weighing on his shoulders. “You grew up seeing me fight things that no child should ever have to believe exist. That alone would warp the way you see me as someone other than what I am. I’m only a man thrown into this life.”

 

“Exactly,” said Dean, reaching out and placing his hand on John’s bent head. He lightly carded his fingers through the thick curls, sliding his fingers downward to cup John’s chin and gently forcing him to look up at him.

 

“Dean . . . ,” started John. He fell silent as he lost himself in Dean’s eyes.

 

Braced for whatever reaction this would cause, Dean kissed him.

 

Instinctively John jerked back, but Dean tightened his hold and kissed him harder. Firm lips covered his, urging him to surrender to the inevitable. The private war he battled surged, forcing him to make a choice.

 

Dean stepped back, drawing John with him. A thrill of excitement rushed through him as John parted his lips, granting him entrance. He deepened the kiss, molding his body against John’s.

 

Wrapping his arms around Dean, John surrendered, banishing his inner demons. His body responded to Dean’s closeness, a surging need that threatened to drown him. With an urgent need he poured his soul into the kiss.

 

Turning, they stumbled and fell, landing on the bed and effectively bringing them back to their senses when bruises protested.

 

John grimaced as Dean’s weight landed on his bruised ribs. “Told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

 

“The spirit is willing, it’s the body that isn’t up to it,” groaned Dean as he eased to the side.

 

“This is going to get complicated,” said John, looking down at Dean as he leaned on his elbow.

 

“Only if we let it,” said Dean. “It’s the secrets that almost destroyed us.”

 

“You know what I mean,” said John.

 

“Yeah,” sighed Dean. “But we can deal with complicated. It’s better than the alternative.”

 

“Which is?” asked John.

 

“Living with regrets,” answered Dean.

 

“Sam and I don’t have the greatest relationship,” said John. “And adding this to the mix has the potential to make it worse.”

 

“Sammy understands more than you realize,” said Dean. “I can’t choose one over the other and he would never ask me to.”

 

“Neither am I,” said John, leaning down and lightly kissing Dean. The eagerness of Dean’s mouth drew him closer and he trailed his fingers along his side. His fingertips skated along the waistband of the sweats and slipped beneath the soft material. With his heart beat racing, he explored the hardness that greeted him.

 

Tipping his head back, Dean broke the kiss, drawing in air while John’s calloused hand encircled his erection. Vaguely he was aware of the sweats sliding off as John carefully moved over him.

 

John nuzzled the crook of Dean’s neck, bracing his weight on his knees and his free hand. Mapping his way around the multitude of injuries scattered over Dean’s torso. Twisting his wrist, he rubbed the sensitive skin just beneath the weeping crown before sliding back down the thick column. He could hear Dean’s breath quicken and increased the speed and tightness of his hand. Nipping the tiny pebble of Dean’s nipple once more, he moved upward and sealed their lips together, hungrily swallowing each groan that escaped from Dean.

 

Surrendering to the play of John’s hand, Dean’s hips jerked while his orgasm consumed him, lost in the sensation of his father’s love.

 

Feeling each pulse of Dean’s release in the palm of his hand, John continued to stroke him. Finished, he snagged the discarded sweatpants and gently wiped clean the remains of Dean’s seed.

 

Reaching out, Dean tugged on John’s belt. He knew what he wanted to do, what he needed to do.

 

Leaning back, John stopped Dean’s hand. “It’s okay. Besides I better check to see if you’ve reopened anything.”

 

“It’s not and I haven’t,” said Dean, resisting John’s attempt to stop him and pushing him firmly back to lie down.

 

“Dean . . . .” John couldn’t find a hold on Dean that wouldn’t hurt him.

 

“This is something I need to do,” said Dean, silencing John with a kiss as he freed John’s hard erection from rough denim.

 

With a last half hearted attempt, John succumbed to Dean’s demands. The memory of Dean’s touch had him eager for it again.

 

Stealing himself, Dean shifted down John’s body, fighting the phantom feelings of fear that threatened to end this before he ever started. He kept telling himself this was his father, not the image the demon created. Bowing his head, he hesitated at the prospect of what he was going to do.

 

Sensing the change in Dean, John reached down and tried to pull him back up. “I don’t want you to ever do anything you don’t want to.”

 

“I do,” said Dean. “I have to, or else it’s won.”

 

“Later,” said John. “When time has had a chance to heal.”

 

John’s reaction struck him and Dean felt a weight he had been carrying for weeks lift. This wasn’t the John of his nightmares and a half crooked smile played on his lips.

 

Furrowing his brow, John tensed at the unexpected reaction. The sure grip that took him in hand caught him by surprise and he gasped.

 

Watching the look on John’s face as he stroked him had Dean sliding back down John’s long body. Darting out his tongue he teased the tiny slit, marveling at the twitches of John’s stomach with each flick. The aches of his injuries reminded him that this would not be drawn out as he would wish and taking a deep breath took John into his mouth.

 

Wet heat engulfed him and John arched, thrusting further past Dean’s lips. Despite the urgency for release, he held himself in check as he moved in time with Dean’s mouth. Wondering how Dean could so easily read him, there was no prolonged teasing as he was pushed quickly toward climax. Resisting the urge to grip Dean’s head with his hands he clenched the bedding as he came with Dean’s name on his lips.

 

Swallowing quickly as John came, Dean released his prize and rested his cheek on a muscled thigh. Eventually he crawled back along John’s side and looked down at the peaceful face of his father.

 

The last few days had finally caught up with John and he wanted nothing more than lie there with Dean. A sense of floating surrounded him where only he and Dean existed.

 

Dean pushed John’s bangs away from his closed eyes. “Sam should be back soon.”

 

The reality of their situation brought John back to the present and he opened his eyes. “He’s going to know what we did.”

 

“He knew before he left,” said Dean. “I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but he’s willing.”

 

John stared a moment at the ceiling before looking at Dean. “Guess I am, too.”

 

Sam sat in the Impala outside of the motel, noting John’s truck was still parked where it was when he had left. He knew what it was he would be walking into when he went inside, hell, he had been the one to force the situation. In his heart he knew he couldn’t expect Dean to chose, if he did, he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t be the one to lose. Sitting here didn’t change the conclusion he had arrived at the morning Dean had turned to John instead of him. He would rather share his brother than lose him completely.

 

The click of the lock had Dean rising from the chair as the door opened. “Hey.”

 

Sam raised the plastic bags of take out as he entered and closed the door. He glanced at John’s sleeping form on the bed. “Everything okay?”

 

“As much as it can be right now,” answered Dean, stepping close to Sam. He reached up and gripped the back of Sam’s neck, tugging him close. “He’s not replacing you, Sammy.”

 

That single sentence went straight to Sam’s heart. “Well, at least not without a fight.”

 

“No fighting,” whispered Dean. “It kills me when you two do.”

 

“We’re always going to fight, Dean,” said Sam. “I don’t see that ever changing. It just won’t be over you.”

 

“Guess I can live with that,” said Dean, with a sense of relief.

 

“You want to wake him, or do you want me to?” asked Sam.

 

Pursing his lips, Dean studied Sam. “Why don’t you?”

 

Giving a silent snort accompanied with a small grin, Sam reached into the bag and withdrew a wrapped roast beef sandwich. Moving toward the bed he knelt down and unwrapped the paper, holding the sandwich near John’s nose.

 

Dean watched, grinning. They had learned a long time ago it was always safer to wake John without startling him, and the smell of food or coffee usually did the trick.

 

“Hungry?” asked Sam when John stirred and looked at him with one eye.

 

“Very,” answered John, shifting to sit up and rubbing the back of his neck as he accepted the offered sandwich. He glanced at Dean sitting at the table, wondering what Sam’s reaction was going to be toward him.

 

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” asked Sam, sitting down and keeping his focus on his sandwich.

 

“It wouldn’t hurt to hole up for a couple days, let Dean heal a bit,” offered John. “Then maybe check out a possible lead up north that I heard about.”

 

“Dean’s not the only one that needs some down time,” said Sam. “It’ll give those ribs of yours a chance to mend.”

 

“I’m fine,” said John.

 

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” said Sam. “Now those ribs of yours . . . .”

 

“Aren’t even broken,” said John.

 

“Still, a few days off the road would be welcome,” said Sam, sharing a glance with Dean. It would also give them a chance to ease into this new aspect of their lives.

 

Dean sat back in his chair, content to watch the two men in his life hash out the next few days. But if they thought it would be like this all the time, they had another thing coming.


End file.
